


I feel like I win when I lose

by Hermaline75



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Emotional Sex, Eurovision, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Pseudo-Incest, Reunions, Sibling Incest, Wow there is actually a tag for that, nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-30 12:57:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3937639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermaline75/pseuds/Hermaline75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following a little badgering from his agent, Loki reluctantly agrees to represent Sweden at the Eurovision Song Contest.</p><p>Which would be bad enough, but what's worse is discovering that his semi-estranged adopted brother and ex-lover Thor is inexplicably singing for Iceland.</p><p>It's a night of nerves, sequins, political voting, pyrotechnics, confusing choreography and the ever-present risk of null points. </p><p>What could go wrong...or right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I feel like I win when I lose

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who loves Eurovision?
> 
> Me. I love Eurovision. 
> 
> So obviously, having it in my head, fic happened. 
> 
> For the record, THIS IS NOT HOW EUROVISION WORKS.
> 
> It's not even that I did no research into the selection process for competitors, I have purposefully ignored facts that I know. 
> 
> Eh, it's fic. I'll have the semi-finals happening one day after another if I want. And move the finalists' couches. And completely skip 80% of the enforced press fun that the performers have to go through. Oh, and have the 'postcards' recorded way later than would be practical.
> 
> I just wanted Thor and Loki at Eurovision, there was no time for verité... Also please yell at me about typos.
> 
> Title comes from Waterloo by ABBA. Because of course.
> 
> (Oh, and most of this is meant to take place in Swedish. Honest. You may notice that Thor is a confident and enthusiastic, if imperfect, English speaker.)

He wasn't expecting the call. His phone almost rang out where it was lying next to the laundry basket before he managed to get to it. His agent's number was flashing on the screen. Probably important then.

"Yeah?" he croaked.

"Congratulations, Mr Sweden."

His groan probably woke the neighbours.

\--

"Why me?" he complained at Sigyn, his agent, over coffee later. "Everyone else there was all...naturally beautiful country girl or boy you could take home to your mum. And I'm... I'm a trainwreck. Singing a song about faking your way through being a trainwreck. In Swedish. I'm not Eurovision-y. I know nothing about Eurovision. I just wanted the profile boost. They don't want me up there. It's a mistake..."

"They want something different," she said. "You're different. They're thinking about those scary monster guys who won it before, you know..."

"Lordi?"

She grinned.

"See, you do know something about Eurovision, Mr Sweden."

"Stop calling me that."

She seemed to take pity on him then, reaching across to grasp his hand.

"Hey, it's OK. You have to get through a semi-final first, remember? You might not make it."

How typical that failure was what he wanted now.

"I do think you should call your mother though. Let her know before the press do."

Yes, that was true. As soon as he was known to be representing, the reporters would be at his door. And his usual excuse of not calling home because he had no news wasn't exactly going to work.

He sidled off to a corner to call and held his breath, hearing the dull ring of her phone down the line. Hers, not the house phone. Didn't want anyone else picking up.

"Hello? Loki, is something wrong?"

He winced. "No. Hi. Er... Good news, I guess. I'm going to be representing Sweden at the... Uh, you know, the Eurovision."

There was a momentary pause.

"Are you sure?"

"Uh. Yes. I know, it's weird. They wanted someone unusual, I guess. Still got a semi-final to get through though. So I might not ."

She suddenly laughed.

"What?" he asked suspiciously. "What's funny?"

"I just got off the phone with Thor. He's representing Iceland. Isn't that the weirdest thing?"

Loki's stomach did something between a backflip and a drop through the floor.

"Loki? Still there?"

"Uh... Yeah, sorry, I've got to go now..."

"I love y-"

He hung up.

Thor.

Fucking Thor.

Oh, this was just perfect, wasn't it? Fucking typical for him to show up now and here. Oh, he was Eurovision material all right, all white teeth and clean cut. Unthreatening beard. Like a gentle, burly, sexy woodland creature...

And a horrible thought was starting to take root in his mind.

"Hey, Sigyn. Who will I be competing with in my semi-final?"

She had opened her laptop while he was occupied and scrolled through her emails to find the details.

"Er, let's see. Ten go through so to qualify you've got to be top ten out of the Netherlands, Russia, Poland, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Estonia, Latvia, Cyprus, Malta..."

"Is Iceland there?"

"Erm... No. They'll be in the other heat. Why?"

He bit his lip. Oh, no, this was stupid...

But he'd never got far in life being careful...

And music had always been _his_ thing anyway, learning the theory and the skills, making a feature instead of a bug out of his slightly scratchy vocals, experimenting with atonality and chromatics and musique concrête... He was cutting edge, he was interesting. And then Thor had let out that effortless, warm tenor and practically walked into the professional session singing business.

Most people wouldn't think twice about the voice singing to them about the virtues of fat-free olive spread, but even the sight of that brand in the supermarket was enough to set his teeth on edge. He'd know that voice anywhere, knew every lilt and turn of it, knew how it sounded when Thor was angry and sad and joyful and in ectasy...

Oh, yes, he knew how Thor's pleasure sounded. It rang in his ears even now, even after all these years. He couldn't even masturbate without hearing it, coming to memories that he wished weren't still the happiest of his life, a happiness that he'd sabotaged and...

No. He wasn't going to think about the past.

And like fuck was Thor going to beat him in the Eurovision fucking Song Contest.

"I just found out my brother is singing for Iceland."

Her eyes widened.

"Your... Your brother Thor?"

"I only have one. Quick, see if there's anything about him up yet..."

Nothing. The press releases weren't ready.

Loki set his jaw and came to a decision.

"Sigyn, I know this will be coming out of the blue, but... I need you to help me win the Eurovision Song Contest."

Her face lit up like an extremely happy torch.

\--

He'd never been to Sigyn's house before. He knew she had to live somewhere, and had imagined it to be clean and delicate.

In fact, it felt more like a nest where she had made herself comfortable and set about collecting shiny things. Rhinestones and glitter shone at him from nearly every surface, hot pink picture frames surrounded images of her grinning with family and friends, mirrors reflected light everywhere.

It was nice, in a gaudy way.

"Alright," she said, steering him through to her sitting room and the throw-covered sofa within. "How far back do you want to go in your Eurovision history?"

"I'm...sorry?"

"Well, are we thinking Conchita Wurst or Dana International or ABBA or Sandie Shaw or...?"

"Two years," he said firmly. "Maybe three. Let me see what's on trend from recent competitions."

"OK, then. Now, to my mind, there are a number of ways to win at Eurovision. Firstly, be a genuinely amazing performer. Second, be weird, but not too weird, so you stand out but don't alienate. Thirdly, be hot, like, super hot. Fourthly, just get lucky and have no-one hate you enough to tactically vote against you."

"Political voting, yeah. How well do we...do on that?"

"Well, the other Scandinavian countries will probably support us. The Baltics mainly vote for each other, central Europe varies, and the UK get grumpy every year and say that the whole thing is a sham."

"And it's not?"

She hesitated. "It's a very fun sham at least. It's not meant to be serious, it's meant to be uniting and positive."

"You... You love Eurovision, don't you?"

She looked him straight in the eye.

"I _adore_ Eurovision."

She showed him various winners from the past decade along with some other notable performers.

And frankly, he didn't get it. He didn't understand the scale, the lighting, the amount of sequins, the incomprehensible dancing, the weird artistic choices... He didn't understand the old women, the ice-skating, the skirt ripping, the glass boxes, the sheer number of violins, the hats, the make-up, the stupid hair, none of it. Some of the songs were pretty enough, good even, but some were just...strange.

Which was rich, coming from him.

"OK," he said eventually. "So I need to get a more sparkly and skimpy outfit, I need to learn to smile more, I need a bigger budget for fireworks and I need some sexy dancers."

"I don't think you really need dancers," Sigyn said thoughtfully. "Unless you want them. But yes to all the rest. I mean, you're... I'm saying this professionally, you are an attractive man. You have that slightly dangerous bad-boy thing going on. Plenty young girls and boys are going to go for that, especially if you're creepy-sexy..."

"I thought those were opposites?"

"They are, but... You know when you're watching a film and you get hot for the villain and you know it's just a fantasy, just a harmless bit of fun, nothing you really want in your real life, but because it's fiction and safe you can fantasise all you want?"

"I fear I'm having a strange insight into your psyche, but I think I understand. I can be creepy-sexy. I'm sure of it. Now, what's our cash limit for pyrotechnics?"

\--

The semi-finals were like mini versions of the big thing, televised on a smaller scale. He'd have to do well here.

He'd altered his routine for it. Previously he'd let the music stand on its own, but this was all about the show.

It came disgustingly easy to him.

The trousers were so tight they might have been painted on, hanging low at his hips to show flashes of pale skin and just the tiniest hint of body hair. He'd carefully ripped his shirt just enough that his nipples remained covered, black sequins and feathers stitched in place to make him look like some kind of human raven, hair slicked back and teased into bold flicks.

He was adding a third layer of eyeliner when his phone rang.

Unknown number.

He waited until it rang out and then called voicemail.

"Uh... Hi, Loki. It's Thor."

As if he didn't know those tones instantly.

"Mum gave me your number. You must be busy. I just wanted to wish you good luck. You'll be great out there, I know it. I'll be watching in the hotel. OK. I love you. Er..."

Loki met his own eyes in the mirror, looking greener than normal with such stark make-up.

He wasn't going to be great.

He was going to be spectacular.

\--

The lighting guys were certainly experts. The stage was completely black when he stepped out, letting him hide in the shadows as he waited, head down while he was annouced. The first pulsing beats brought slithering green lights that he knew would be shining on his skin. The stage itself was lit up with green flames beneath his feet.

And then the music really began and he jerked his head up, looking straight down the camera lens to offer his most sardonic smile.

He laughed, feeling the sound roll up from his chest, out through his lips and across the crowd. Maybe he imagined the collective shiver, but maybe not.

It was the performance of his life. His voice had never sounded better, all growled promises and sinful moans. Anyone who didn't understand his lyrics, the ones about lies and heartbreak and feeling lost and broken, would undoubtfully think it a seduction song.

And in a way it was. He needed to get through to the final, _needed_ to. And if he had to make love to the cameras for that to happen, well, so be it.

He would stalk towards one, practically beckoning to it. Come here, look at me, get close enough to touch... And then he'd simply grin and flounce away to the other side of the stage. He made sure his movements were sinuous, deadly, dripping with sex appeal and animal instincts only barely held back.

Somehow he even managed to perfectly time a wink for just before the flames roared into life behind him.

The force of applause was unexpected. He hadn't realised how many people were in the arena.

And just like that, it was over. He was ushered backstage where he found Sigyn looking almost shocked.

"That was... Er, that was... Good. Very good. Um. Wow."

He laughed at her, pleased by his own apparent success. She thrust his bag at him, mumbling something about shared dressing rooms and his phone beeping.

Sure enough, there was a text.

"Well done. That was really fucking sexy. You'll definitely go through from that. Seriously hot. T x"

He shouldn't have done it. Really shouldn't have. But he couldn't resist replying.

"Thanks. Good to know I can still get you hard, bro."

He regretted it almost immediately. What had happened wasn't Thor's fault, but the routine of lashing out was hard to break. And Thor had been there to take it all out on. All his pain and sorrow, Thor was there to be yelled at and hurt and fucked within an inch of his life and he'd still come back for more with only affection in his heart and he would stroke Loki's hair and whisper that the world was unjust and then he would make love so sweetly until they were both overwhelmed panting messes.

And then, one day, he wasn't there anymore, and when he regretted leaving, Loki revelled in the pain and refused to welcome him back, even as his heart screamed out its need for its kindred. And he had said such awful things, told Thor that he was the perverse one, wanting to fuck his little brother, as if they hadn't taken every step along that road together. He made Thor feel all the shame, made him weep with sorrow for invented actions and pains.

And it hadn't made Loki feel any better.

He shouldn't have sent that text. He checked his phone constantly for a response, but none came.

Suddenly cheering erupted around him. He barely heard Sigyn telling him that he was through, that he'd gained enough votes in the heat.

It was a hollow victory.

\--

They made him film a 'postcard' the next day, a tiny little film that would play before his performance. He had to build the Swedish flag from random objects, and silently cursed its bright colours. How was he meant to be a lost soul with yellow and bright blue?

They let him make it out of books. It would do.

And Sigyn insisted that he watch that night's heat to check out the competition.

He agreed so long as he could watch it alone in his hotel room with a chilled bottle of sharp white wine. Generally he preferred red, but the idea of it was too heavy and he didn't want anything with bubbles or spirits, so white wine would do.

They showed a short behind-the-scenes segment before the show proper. Mostly very pretty young singers explaining how Eurovision had been their dream ever since they were little and how wonderful everything was. Some seemed genuine. Others were just a smidge too plastic. Or maybe it was just because they were speaking English that their words seemed slightly false.

And then there he was.

There was Thor.

He hadn't changed a bit since their last meeting. His usually tangled hair had been forced into a bun but was making a valiant attempt at escape and he was smiling widely as he was questioned. It seemed they were especially interested in him singing for Iceland while not Icelandic.

"It's not the first time it's happens," he was saying. "Celine Dion sang for Switzerland. But I'm very honoured to been chosen by such a very beautiful country. I spend a lot of time there, playing music with wonderful people. Is good. Ég elska Ísland!"

They chatted to him about his song, a ballad he had written and translated into English, and then the conversation took a turn that made Loki distinctly uneasy.

"So your brother is also competing this year?"

Thor's smile could have ended wars.

"Yes. Loki who sings for Sweden is my brother. My young brother."

"And do you have a message for him, if he's watching?"

"Hej, Loki! Good luck! I hope to see you in final. I'm sad we do not see each other so often any more. I cry because miss you. Have fun in Eurovision! Jag älskar dig."

They'd recorded it yesterday. They had to have done. He wouldn't have reacted like that after last night.

Loki took a hefty swig of wine, twirling his phone between his fingers. He sighed heavily and decided he'd at least try.

"Good luck tonight. Sure you'll do great. And thanks for the messages, all of them."

He hit send and tried to work out how long before Thor would perform. Was he getting ready now, or was he already waiting too be cued onto one of the stages?

To occupy himself, Loki made a drinking game of the contest. One sip for pyrotechnics, bad rhymes, costume changes mid-song, bare feet and any time he cringed.

He was nearly halfway through the bottle when Thor was announced, sitting on a simple wooden stool, guitar in hand.

Maybe it was the wine talking, but Loki was fascinated by the movement of his fingers, the slight glint of sadness in his eyes and the utter lack of artifice about him. Loki's performance was all showmanship. Thor's was all heart.

His translation was clunky, some lines clearly not quite working in English, but they were sung with such passion that Loki felt himself drifting in Thor's voice, being carried away.

And when he looked directly into camera to almost whisper, his voice so clear and pure as he softly uttered words of love like secrets, Loki found himself weeping.

"Amazing," he texted Thor afterwards. "Your voice was sounding great. Good luck. Hope the votes come through for you."

He fell asleep before the results were announced, waking up in a mess of blankets to learn Thor had made it.

There was also a new text.

"Thanks. Can't wait to see you."

\--

Sigyn was waiting for him at breakfast surrounded by a small forest of documents. 

"Right. Here's your schedule for the next two days. It's mainly press and rehearsals and a lot of sitting around. And before you yell at me, no, I didn't organise for the joint interview with Thor and yes, I have tried to get you out of it, but they're just not budging."

It was staring at him accusingly in black and white. Two in the afternoon, joint interview with Thor.

"Why joint?"

She sighed.

"You know how Eurovision is all about unity? The great happy family of Europe, like they aren't at each other's throats about foreign policy half the time. Well, what better to demonstrate the unifying power of song better than reuniting actual brothers?"

"So we're a walking human interest story?"

"And it gets worse. You're relegated to the fifth paragraph or so, but every report is talking about you two. The light and dark of Scandinavia, they say. Scandi-goth versus Scandi-love. Here, look."

She handed him a scrap of newspaper. Sure enough there were inset photos of himself and Thor with the caption 'Brotherhood: TEAM THOR or TEAM LOKI?'.

"Why can't people support both of us?"

"Oh, it's total garbage. But you know the press. Always wanting to force division, even into stuff that's meant to be fun and harmless. Brace yourself for the questions."

The trip to the end arena by taxi wasn't exactly as glamorous as he'd hoped or expected. They didn't arrive until one o'clock and he barely had time to brush his teeth in one of the dressing room sinks, change his shirt for another identical one, check that his accessories were in place and splash water on his face.

He caught his own reflection's eye. He looked very young, fresh and vulnerable without his make-up. It wasn't exactly a look that he favoured, but he couldn't do anything about it now.

There were cameras. How he wished there weren't. They wired him up to a radio mic, which only added to his unease. He couldn't even breathe without the sound guy knowing.

Loki wasn't sure what he was feeling when he saw Thor in the flesh. Part of him wanted to flee. Part of him wanted to rush to Thor's arms and beg forgiveness and never leave again.

Instead he forced himself to smile softly and walk calmly and allow Thor a warm embrace before they were interrogated.

The interviewer was German and seemed nice enough, but she was also unbearably chirpy, her voice pitched at a level that grated on his nerves.

But he tried. At least he tried. They answered questions about how happy they were to get through and how excited they were to represent and perform, Loki covering a little about the rock scene of Scandinavia and his choice to sing in Swedish, all the usual stuff passing by unremarkably.

"Now, you are real life brothers, yes? And you haven't seen each other for two years?"

Thor beamed.

"Yes. It's crazy that we meet here. But very happy."

"And I should probably point out that I'm adopted," Loki said before he even knew he was speaking. "In case anyone's wondering why we don't look alike."

Thor's face fell and the journalist frowned. She hadn't known. Poor research.

She recovered quickly though, her smile returning.

"So just like how you have been adopted by Iceland, Thor."

No, Loki wanted to say. Not like that at all. Iceland hadn't lied to Thor his whole life. Iceland hadn't waited for him to stumble across the truth. Iceland hadn't acted like it was somehow not its fault if his sense of identity was shattered. Iceland was perfectly innocent. Stop blaming Iceland!

Thor wasn't still helplessly in love with Iceland's son...

"And, Thor, I hear you have a good luck present for your brother?"

Wait, what? Oh. Oh, God.

At least Thor had the decency to look sheepish as he reached into a pocket to pull out a bead necklace. Green, glass by the look of it. Unbearably folksy.

"To match eyes," he mumbled, embarrassed.

"I... I wasn't expecting..."

"Is OK."

"No, it's not."

He had to have something he could hand over...

"Here," he said, unclipping a black leather cuff. "Take this. For luck."

Thor looked as though all the universe's wonders had been revealed to him and held out his wrist.

His pulse was quick under Loki's fingers as he snapped the fastening closed, letting himself linger just slightly.

And then Thor was slipping the necklace over his head and looking into his eyes and Loki was falling all over again...

"OK, many thanks to Thor and Loki. Good luck tomorrow."

Thor managed a 'thank you' in return, but Loki was in a daze. He barely noticed the mic being removed or anything at all until Thor laid a hand on his shoulder, slipping into Swedish.

"Hey. We need an early night. Want to eat with me?"

Loki nodded. He couldn't trust himself to speak.

\--

"So..." Thor said, pouring water for them both. "What the hell are you doing at Eurovision?"

Loki groaned. "I only went to the auditions to get my name out there. Business has been slow. But for whatever reason, they want someone...like me. Someone weird. And so I wasn't going to try for the semi-final but then Mum said you'd be here..."

"You came to Eurovision to see me? You could have just called."

A crooked smile. "Oh, no, Thor. I came to Eurovision to beat you."

"I see," Thor chuckled. "So the papers are right. It is brother versus brother?"

"Mmm. Maybe. I might go easy on you yet."

Thor let out a loud laugh. Oh, he'd missed that laugh.

"It's been too long," he said firmly. "What happened to us?"

Loki swallowed hard, playing idly with the small pile of minted peas that had come with his lemon sole.

"I'm not sure," he lied.

Actually what had happened was one fight too many, a few too many cruel words and finally Thor realising that even when you removed the whole brother thing, their relationship wasn't good for them. And so he'd left. By the time he tried to come crawling back, Loki had embedded himself bitterly into life alone and only barely allowed him in to collect his things from their shared apartment.

"In the past now," Thor agreed.

There was a beat where their eyes met, full of things unspoken, words never to be shared.

"You're the voice of butter substitute product," Loki said, desperately lunging for a change of subject.

Thor leapt on it gratefully. "Oh, you've seen that? God, it's awful. Still, pays the bills..."

He'd expected it to be awkward. 

In fact, he only just resisted the urge to invite Thor back to his hotel room after food.

It had been too long. It wouldn't be appreciated.

\--

Someone was hammering on his door. Sigyn, judging by the accompanying shouts.

"Get up! Get out here, Loki! I put this on the schedule, you're meant to be halfway through breakfast by now!"

He ended up yawning and unshowered in the hotel restaurant, numbly chewing toast and pouring coffee down his throat.

"You'll have time to nap and wash later," Sigyn was saying. "Now, good news. You have great press buzz this morning. Everyone loves you and Thor together. And the presents - inspired. You're everyone's darlings. I think only Belgium are better loved than you right now, but they've sent a tiny violinist with big, brown eyes, so... Anyway, as for beating Thor and possibly winning..."

Loki looked up at her and swallowed hard.

"I... I don't want to beat Thor anymore."

Her jaw dropped.

"You... You don't want to win?"

"It would be nice to win, and I'll do my best, but... It's not all I care about now. We had dinner last night. Had a long talk. We're... We've both grown up a lot. So if I do well, great. But if not then... I'm OK with that. I just want to have fun. And come out the other side actually talking to my brother."

Sigyn narrowed her eyes a little and slumped back in her seat.

"OK. Your chances aren't great anyway."

"Aren't they? Belgium again?"

"Well, them and others. The bookmakers have you somewhere around tenth. FYR Macedonia have actually sent a really good song. Which is cheating if you ask me."

"I'll politely remind you that I wrote my song..."

"And you're a musical genius, darling," she said, waving a hand. "But you're also niche. They're good and they have mass appeal. The swine. But anyway, if you're not stressed then I'm not stressed. I'm at the biggest party in Europe. I'm going to enjoy it."

"You deserve to."

"But that doesn't mean I'm not going to make sure that you're showing up to all your rehearsal times. Professionalism doesn't slip just because we're not really competing anymore..."

\--

Most of his day was a blur of mini-interviews and snatched moments of peace before Sigyn herded him into the arena for sound checks. 

"There are five stages between all 26 acts," she said. "So there's minimum pause. One song ends and the stage is immediately made ready for the next act while the other four stages are in use. You are on stage three, performing 13th."

He snorted. Typical.

"But," she continued. "Thor is performing 8th, so he'll be on stage right before you and when the votes come in, your sofa alcoves are next to each other. I guess they want more footage of you two being congratulatory to each other."

A few nights ago, spending the evening with Thor would have been his worst nightmare. Now it sounded heavenly.

Sound check was as dull as always, followed by basically being forcefed his dinner and sent to bed in the hope he'd be refreshed later. Loki felt like a child, tossing and turning beneath the sheets, still too much light coming in through the curtains.

And then his phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi," came Thor's voice. "You meant to be sleeping too?"

A smile spread across Loki's lips, running a hand leisurely through his hair.

"Yeah," he said. "Can't believe it's tonight."

"I know. You nervous?"

"I don't get nervous."

Thor laughed, the rich resonance filling Loki with warmth.

"Well, good luck anyway. I'll be seeing you down there."

"So I hear. It'll be more fun that way. Good luck to you too."

It was easier to sleep after that call. His heart swelled with the prospect of getting to be with his brother in such a surreal position. It felt so good to be talking again.

\--

Sigyn was resplendent in bright pink with thick, dark lashes. Various people eyed them in wonder, confused that they were connected. The only flash of colour Loki had was the necklace Thor had given him for luck in place of his usual silver pendants.

He was disappointed that he couldn't hang out with Thor beforehand. All the artists were held in their dressing rooms until it was time to perform and afterwards escorted to their designated couch for free booze and nerves before the votes came in.

Really the performances were a very small part of the evening.

There was a monitor in his room to watch the show on. The hosts smiled widely, welcoming Europe to their country, awkwardly making jokes in English. Sigyn hadn't shown him this. It was bizarre.

And despite himself, nerves had started to set in. The crowd was enormous, a sea of faces and flags. This really was Europe's biggest party.

He didn't pay much attention to the strange dancing and questionable fashion choices until Thor's 'postcard' played. It focused on his hands as he made the Icelandic flag from glasses of coloured water, pushing his hair back out of his face in an effortlessly attractive way.

Two years had somehow made him more handsome than ever.

And there he was, broadcast live from the stage, beautiful voice ringing out clearly, a little smile on his face.

He was wearing the cuff. Loki nearly sobbed to see it. And then the camera moved close to his face and Loki couldn't help but believe that this song, this performance was for him, these were words meant for him and him alone.

"Loki," Sigyn said from the doorway. "It's time."

"He's not finished."

"I know, but we need to go down. They've called you."

He moved in a daze. It didn't feel like he was about to perform. The sound of applause for Thor echoed around him as Sigyn left him at the base of the stage stairs. It was dark down here, crew walking past him unseeing.

And then Thor, handing his guitar over to a waiting runner. Loki reached out to pull him into his hiding place by the wrist, seeing him grin in recognition.

"Did I sound alright?"

Loki didn't reply, just laced his fingers into Thor's hair to drag him into a kiss.

There was a beat before Thor's arms wrapped around him, kissing back, tongue tentatively brushing against his. And then Loki pulled away and shoved past him, running for the stage to collect his microphone.

Where had that come from? He'd meant to tell Thor that he sounded wonderful, that it had gone really well, he hadn't meant to accost him in the dark where they could have been seen, could have been filmed...

What a way to tell their parents that would be.

But then again, Thor hadn't pushed him away. He had welcomed it.

Maybe... Maybe he still felt the same. Maybe the love song really was for him. Maybe he had been looking into camera and hoping that Loki was watching and understanding...

As his music began - and how had four other songs flown by in so short a length of time? - Loki knew what he wanted to do.

Thor had performed for him, so he'd perform for Thor. The words were all wrong, but... 

Every camera was Thor, and he was going to tease his brother mercilessly. He would make Thor want him again, let him know that his desire was welcomed and appreciated.

He sang on autopilot, which in retrospect was probably a bad idea in a song contest, but threw his all into performing, the flames rushing skywards next to him on the last beat as he panted with the exertion of his movements.

And then Sigyn ushered him offstage during the applause, hurrying him through to champagne in an ice bucket, and strings of Swedish flags, and a great long couch and...

And Thor at the next couch, leaping up to greet him.

"That was so good," he said, a faint hint of dark lipstick at the corner of his mouth. "You looked amazing!"

"It was for you."

They couldn't kiss here and they both knew it. Loki could see the agony in Thor's face as his equivalent to Sigyn pushed a champagne flute into his hand.

They were meant to stick to their respective couches, but sat on the very edges. Loki had been the halfway point of performances, but the others rolled by without them noticing. They only had eyes for one another.

"You wore my gift," Thor said.

"Yes. You wore mine too."

A moment's pause and they were both laughing.

"This is too weird. I feel like we've never been apart."

"I feel like we've been apart far too long. And I think we should fix that. Afterwards... Do you want to get out of here? Skip the afterparty I mean."

Thor looked a little shifty.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," he said. "I... If I'm alone with you, I might have to kiss you again and I'm not sure I could stop."

"I wouldn't object to that. In fact, I think that sounds wonderful."

Thor looked up at him, eyes full of hope, grinning, and Loki felt his heart soar.

"I'm... I'm sorry for what happened between us."

"It wasn't your fault."

"It was a bit."

"Look, Thor. It was both our faults. Leave it at that."

"Yeah, we... We just weren't ready for... I mean, we were too young to..."

"Please, stop. We're here now, together. Let's enjoy ourselves. Plenty of time for talking later.

They watched the little performance that covered the voting time, for sheer confusion. It was one of the oddest things he'd ever seen. Maybe it made more sense to locals.

And then Sigyn was beside hin again, pressing a little Swedish flag into his hand. Her face was slightly flushed from the champagne, Thor's assistant handing her another glass.

"Alright," she said. "Votes are about to come through. If anywhere gives you douze points, the camera will cut to you. If that happens I need you to smile and say thank you down the lens and wave your flag like you've had a sudden injection of patriotism, OK?"

He barely paid attention. Thor had decided to hold his other hand, their fingers linked between the couches like a bridge.

"As long as we don't get zero," Sigyn said. "I'm not going home with null points hanging over me."

His first score was three from Poland. No need to worry there then. The camera only cut to him once when Iceland gave him twelve, probably more in support of Thor than him, but he followed the rules and waved away. He was more excited when Sweden returned the favour for his brother.

It became apparent quite early that they were unlikely to win. Belgium had an early lead with Macedonia chasing and the Netherlands occasionally making ground.

After Russia's points had been annouced, he tapped Thor on the shoulder.

"I can't win. Even if everywhere else gave me full marks, I can't catch Belgium now."

Thor had been doing slightly better, looking at the leaderboard doubtfully.

"And I'd need all tens or something. Well. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that there's still an unopened bottle of champagne behind you and that if we snuck out now, we'd be first in line for taxis."

Thor glanced warily at Sigyn, but she wasn't listening in as he leant closer.

"And where would we go, alone with our complimentary champagne?"

"Whose room is closest?"

Thor laughed at that, tossing his head back.

"If I'd known you were going to be like this, I'd have brought lube. Got any?"

"No. But we're at Eurovision, Thor. I can't imagine it will be difficult to get hold of some."

With six countries still to vote, Loki kissed Sigyn on the cheek and told her to have fun. The way she was sitting with Thor's assistant suggested she'd at least have a friend for the evening. 

His hands shook a little in the men's bathroom as he fed coins into the vending machine for condoms and lube, Thor waiting outside with their stuff. Had he planned this? No. Did he want it?

Oh, God, yes. Yes, yes, yes.

\--

The driver was surly and Loki elected not to try for making out like teenagers on the back seat, satisfied to run his hand teasingly up Thor's thigh, half-stolen bottle tucked under his arm.

Thor fumbled the key card, shoving the door open with his shoulder. He threw the live coverage on as Loki found tumblers in the bathroom.

"Who won?"

"Belgium."

"Quelle surprise. Bienvenue à la Bruxelles."

"They might do it in Flemish."

Loki snorted, popping the cork and slugging out a generous helping for them both, sitting next to his brother on the end of one of the beds.

"To Eurovision."

Thor smiled. "To us. I'm... I'm so glad to be here with you. I've dreamt about something like this."

"Seriously?"

"Loki, not a single day has passed when I haven't thought about you."

He seemed very earnest and Loki drained his glass, placing it on the floor and straddling Thor's lap.

"When I saw you again," he murmured. "I... I wanted to run. But I'm not sure whether towards you or away."

"Why would you run from me?"

"Well... You know how you said you might start kissing me and never stop? I'm scared that if I'm in your arms again, I'll never want to leave."

Thor knocked back his champagne, letting his glass roll out of his hand and onto the floor.

"Shall we see if our fears are founded?"

Their noses brushed together tentatively, like they had so many years ago, both knowing there was no going back and plunging onwards anyway.

It was like coming home for Loki, Thor's lips pressed to his, Thor's arms around him, warm and loving and safe. He leant forwards, pushing Thor onto the bed.

"Do you remember our first time?" Thor asked.

"Mmm. You said that I ought to top, otherwise you'd be worried I wasn't enjoying myself."

"And really it's because I'd been fingering myself since I was 13 and couldn't wait to have a real cock in me."

Loki ground down against Thor's growing arousal, rocking his hips to make pleasure spark through them both.

"I soon caught on to what a cock-slut you were. Always wanting something stuffed inside you."

"You loved it though."

"True. But I loved you filling me up equally well. Is that what you want then? A real blast from the past?"

Thor nodded, biting his lip.

"If that's alright with you. Gentle prep though. It's... It's been a while since I've had the pleasure."

"How long?"

"Well, since... Since you and me."

He was clearly embarrassed and Loki's motions faltered.

"I haven't had anyone either," he whispered. "I tried, but..."

"It wasn't us."

Loki didn't want to think about the implications of that, how they'd both resigned themselves. He'd just assumed that Thor would move on.

He started unbuttoning Thor's shirt, running his hands over his body, so familiar and yet so changed. Slipping off his own was almost an afterthought, yanking it over his head, sequins and feathers flying. Thor dragged him down, eager to be skin on skin and to kiss again.

"If neither of us have had anyone..." he said thoughtfully.

"Would you like to feel me come inside you, Thor?"

He gave a whole-body shiver, grinning, and Loki couldn't help but return it, laughing.

"I've missed this," he whispered, like a confession.

"I've missed you."

It was difficult, as predicted, to drag himself out of Thor's arms long enough even to get out of their trousers. The lube packets were difficult to open and Loki eventually resorted to biting them, Thor's cock twitching, aroused by the savagery of his desperation.

"Spread your legs for me? Yeah, that's it."

He was very careful and gentle, the product of years of practise. One finger might slide inside easily enough, but he could tell from Thor's breathing that he wasn't ready for two right away.

Thor was watching him in wonder, head tipping back as Loki inserted another digit. If it wasn't for the grounding sensations, he'd probably think he was dreaming.

"Yes... Loki, please..."

"Not yet."

He would have whined, but Thor was more patient, obediently staying still until Loki was well and truly satisfied that he was ready.

"I'm gonna... You know, now."

"Say it."

A little huff of a laugh.

"I'm gonna fuck you now."

Thor moaned as Loki pressed in, neither of them completely anticipating the feeling of being joined after so long. Loki found himself pulled down again, Thor's legs wrapped firmly around him, just holding them together and kissing him mercilessly.

He yelped into Loki's mouth on the first thrust, but from surprise, not pain. He was soon making little keening sounds, hips canting up to meet each action.

"Come back to me," he gasped, and Loki stilled, resting his forehead against Thor's, ignoring the way his body screamed at him.

"Don't say that. Not now."

"But I love you. And I know that you love me too."

Thor rolled his hips, trying to coax Loki into moving again, making his breath shudder and his eyes fall closed.

"I'm scared," he said, starting to thrust gently. "Because you're going to want to be together again and... and..."

"Ssh..." Thor whispered. "It's alright. I've got you. Let go. Come on, let go."

"What if I hurt you again?"

"What if you don't?"

Loki's eyes flashed open and he pushed himself up, bracketing Thor's head with his arms. Thor reached up to run the backs of two fingers down his cheek, letting him automatically lean into the touch.

And then Loki thrust forward properly.

"Ah!" Thor cried. "Fuck, yeah."

"Yeah? Good?"

"So good. Give it to me, please."

Emotions and plans could wait, Loki thought.

Though with Thor gazing up at him, little cries escaping his throat, his body open and welcoming, Loki felt himself slipping.

He forced his eyes away, but Thor turned his face back for kisses, as though sensing his need to hide. This way they had intimacy without him being looked at.

For someone who loved performing so much and really wanted affection, he could get shy at the most inconvenient times.

But Thor was there to catch him. And he didn't know if he was able to have that again, if it was worth having it to risk losing it...

Was it worth trying? He could have this, have all of it, but if he messed it up...

Thor moaned against his ear, bringing him back to the present, to his beautiful brother lying beneath him, taking all he had to give, whispering pleas for more.

Loki sighed happily and pounded into him, chasing his pleasure, as if this was the last night they'd ever share together, desperately seeking Thor's lips to muffle his cries into.

He wasn't sure when their fingers laced together, but suddenly he was pinning Thor's arm beside his head, that strong hand in his, fitting together like puzzle pieces.

"Touch me," Thor said. "Please, please, I want to feel your hand on me..."

Forcing his other arm between them made kissing more difficult, but that meant there was no barrier to Thor's cries.

"Ah... Oh, Loki, yes... God, I love you. Yeah, keep going..."

"Gonna come?"

"Fuck... Yeah. You with me?"

"Need a little more."

"Mmm, hurry. Wanna feel it. Need you to fill me up, broth- Oh!"

Loki did his best to fuck Thor through his orgasm, even though the clenching of his muscles pulled him over the edge faster than expected. He let himself be rolled onto his back afterwards, softened cock slipping out, being kissed all the while.

"That was nice," he managed. "Intense."

Thor smiled at him almost sadly.

"I wish I knew where you went," he said.

"When?"

"While you were fucking me. You went away for a bit. I saw it, felt it. I just wish you'd stay with me."

Loki sighed. "That's just it, isn't it? You want to try again."

"Don't you? I love you. I miss you, I want to be with you again. You don't want that?"

"I... I do, of course I do. But it's not as simple as want, is it?"

"Why not? We could live together again, be together always. Write together. We're good apart, but imagine the kind of album we could make together. You and me, in the studio, on tour... Getting to fuck in a different hotel room every night."

Loki snorted, smiling in spite of himself.

"Tell me you don't want that life," Thor said. "Tell me that you don't want me and I'll leave. It's up to you. I will never stop loving you, but if we want different things then..."

"Shut up. Just... Just shut up, Thor. Shut up and cuddle me."

Obediently, Thor pulled him into a sticky embrace, his drying come catching on their skin.

Could he face a lifetime without even the chance of this? Without ever being wrapped in Thor's arms again?

He wasn't sure why he was asking himself.

"OK," he mumbled.

"OK?"

"What do you want me to say? Yes, I love you and I want to be with you, but that doesn't mean I'm not scared of... Of going through that pain again. But if we don't try..."

"Then we'll never find out if we could make it. It's OK. We'll go slow."

Loki let his eyes flicker shut as Thor kissed his neck, hands roaming around his body.

"Trying to get me hot again?"

"Just thought I'd celebrate you admitting that you love me by sucking you off. You used to love that."

He did. Despite how recently he'd come, he felt himself twitch at the very idea of it.

"Lie back for me."

Loki's chest heaved as Thor knelt in front of him and leant forward, slipping the head if his cock between his lips. Even though he wasn't fully hard yet, Thor hummed happily around him.

"You know I've just been inside you?"

"Mmm. I know. Don't care."

"You filthy... Oh, Thor..."

For reasons that Loki refused to examine too closely, Thor had always been excellent at oral sex. His tongue flicked around unpredictably, mind-blowing force of suction making Loki quake and quiver, crying out.

It always made him come too fast, spilling into Thor's mouth and gasping for air.

He didn't have time to recover before Thor was on him again, kissing the scant breath from his lips.

"Say it again, Loki."

"Say what?"

"You know exactly what."

Loki grinned.

"I love you."

_Kiss._

"I love you."

_Kiss._

"I love you, I love you, I love you..."

_Kiss, kiss, kiss..._

There were definitely worse ways to lose at Eurovision.


End file.
